


wolves and girls (both have sharp teeth)

by IceisAwesome



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, BAMF Ned Stark, Background Relationships, GOT Secret Santa, POV Cersei Lannister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceisAwesome/pseuds/IceisAwesome
Summary: Cersei Lannister is not pleased when she learns of her upcoming marriage to Eddard Stark. At least, not until the wolf sheds his sheepskin.This is a promptfill for the 2019 GOT secret santa!
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Ned Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 406





	wolves and girls (both have sharp teeth)

Rays of sunlight filter through the open window, beams of light catching on the gems inlaid in the heavy wooden desk and setting them alight. The same light that, Cersei knows, makes her own golden hair shine like the sun.

A coy smile and a pleasant backdrop and Cersei knows she could charm any man, from her sweet Jaime to the most dour of lords. She could charm any man, tis true, but Tywin Lannister is not any man.

“Cersei,” father barely greets her, his voice as cold as ever when she takes a seat. His voice is always cold, his tone is always flat, but Cersei swears, just for a moment, that his eyes gleam in satisfaction. 

“I have settled the matter of your betrothal.”

“Who will I be marrying, father?” She asks sweetly, even as possibilities race in her mind. Oberyn Martell was out of the question, had been since that fateful visit so many years ago. Robert Baratheon was already married to the Stark girl, a fact that seemed to please no one. 

For all the man’s professions of love, he seemed more content to whore and drink his days away than pay attention to his wild little wife. The crown prince could be an option, were it not for him already marrying the damaged princess. Oh, it would be easy enough to win his favor even with a wife, especially with one as fragile as Elia Martell. It would be far too easy, but the prince would want her as a mistress, not a wife, and Cersei would never settle for being such.

There was a time when she thought she would settle for nothing less than a crown, for nothing less than violet eyes filled with devotion, but that time has passed. That time is long gone, even now as Cersei thinks on Lord Arryn’s nephew dying of the spring plague.

“Brandon Stark is dead,” her father replies, dipping his quill into a pot of ink and starting a new letter. “The fool found himself on the wrong end of a cutthroat’s blade, at least according to rumor.”

“Then Eddard Stark is the heir,” Cersei realizes, the connection clear, but-

“Wouldn’t Lord Stark keep the Tully betrothal and simply marry the eldest girl to his new heir?”

“He would,” father says, looking up from his letter, emerald eyes unusually bright, “but even the Starks are swayed by Lannister gold.”

Setting the quill to the side and folding up the parchment, Cersei stills as her father looks to her. “You have known the boy since he came to foster with us when he was ten and you were seven. You have flowered and Lord Stark believes his son is also of an acceptable age to wed. The wedding will take place in twelve moons.”

Pressing the lion seal into the wax, Tywin spares her only a glance before looking back down. “You are dismissed.”

* * *

Cersei thought the Stark boy a lackwit when he first came to Casterly Rock. A lackwit for not only did he rarely speak, preferring instead to stare and stare, the few times he did converse, it was halting and uncertain.

She knows father was displeased as well, knows that Uncle Gerion openly japed that Stark promised them a wolf and sent a worm instead.

Her Jaime insisted the boy was actually intelligent, was clever when listened to, but she found it hard to believe. Either way it didn’t matter, not when father had left mother’s bloodied birthing bed with a scowl on his face, not when he sent her other half away without a reason why.

And then father had agreed to bring her to court, Cersei eager to charm her handsome prince, and the Stark boy was left alone at Casterly Rock. To tell it truthfully, she did not think of the boy with dark hair and grey eyes for some time, not until the king stole her Jaime and her promised prince wed another.

The prince’s wedding was beautiful, near as beautiful as Cersei when she had flirted with the second son that night, intent on gaining a reaction from the prince who spurned her, from the brother who left her. But neither noticed, neither cared, and the wolf boy that once seemed so meek had towered over her when he gently declined.

Shamed and humiliated, Cersei had not sought him since.

But now father has arranged a marriage, now Cersei is bound for a desolate land filled with nothing but snow and smallfolk. No tourneys, no luxuries, none of the little things that made the capital so delightful. Nothing to do but be fucked by a cowardly little boy grown into a boring man.

* * *

“Lady Cersei,” Stark turns to greet her as she steps into the garden they call a godswood, rising from his knees as he moves to stand.

He is not unattractive, Cersei is forced to admit in the privacy of her mind. He is not broad and muscled like Robert Baratheon, he is not ethereal and otherworldly like the crown prince. He does not have Jaime’s golden curls, the ringlets she loved to tug on or those emerald eyes she loved to watch.

But his form is still pleasing, muscles obvious even if he is far leaner than his Baratheon goodbrother. His eyes are a dull grey but his face is unblemished, free of scars or spots. He is handsome enough, she is forced to admit. Handsome enough, but not fit for a Lannister.

“Has Lord Lannister told you?” Stark asks, interrupting her idle musings as he comes closer, dirt still staining his trousers.

“I know we are to be wed, my lord,” she replies sweetly, a flirtatious smile stretching across her lips. But Stark does not react, does not blush like the crown prince or smile like Baratheon or even step closer like Jaime.

Instead he seems almost amused.

“I know you don’t want this match,” he says instead, so blunt that she stops in the middle of her next attempt at flattery. “I am not a future king like Rhaegar or comely like Robert. I have neither title nor looks to benefit me. But, my lady, I still believe I can offer you something of value.”

“And what is that?” Cersei asks, cautious but curious, stepping forward to meet him.

“Lord Lannister tells me the king is like to die within a year. When he does we will have a new king-a _weak_ king. The prince wants to be adored above all else, is willing to do near anything in the name of friendship. I will go to him, I will make him trust me.”

Lord Stark steps forward, so close she can feel his breath as he leans down to whisper. “I will become the hand of the king when Rhaegar ascends to the throne. My brother would have given you Winterfell, Rhaegar would have given you a crown...but I will give you a kingdom.”

The thought sends a shiver up her spine, makes her bold enough to reach out a hand, pale fingers tracing along his calloused hand.

“I thought you a lackwit when you first came,” Cersei easily admits, emerald eyes shining in amusement. “And a bore when mother died, then a fool when we met again after so many years and you openly refused me. But you’ve wanted this all along, haven’t you?”

“A pride of lions can roar all they want,” her betrothed replies, the corner of his lips twitching up, “but a lone wolf must be cautious.”

Cersei does smirk at that painted lips parting as she looks up at her betrothed. The Stark boy had fooled them all, and she is glad for it.

“Tell me more,” she demands, eager and vicious, like a lion stalking her prey.

“We’ll rule for Rhaegar,” he whispers back, grey eyes shining. “Our children will marry his. A dragon will still rule, but a dragon with the blood of wolves and lions."

Looking at this snake hiding in the grass, at this wolf in a sheep's skin, Cersei leans closer, her smirk relaxing into a far more genuine smile as she imparts her only warning. "I will find a way to be rid of you should you fail, Lord Stark."

He only laughs.

"I would expect nothing less."


End file.
